


Kiss me on the mouth and set me free

by Lortan



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Again, Am I a creature of habit?, Bite by Troye Sivan, Epic home makeover guys, Gardening and angst, I need to go outside and feed horses, I squeezed a Faerie into this one too, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Lots of Angst, M/M, Tom is sad guys, bye, harry is a ghost, i can't tag, i cannot be stopped, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-18
Packaged: 2021-03-14 14:49:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,034
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29544024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lortan/pseuds/Lortan
Summary: "....did you truly love me so much?"Harry's voice is right above him now, and Tom's breath catches, his every muscle seizes. He wants to touch….He sighs into his pillow. "I put my life aside for you, Harry. My dreams of greatness are gone. All I want now is you, and I cannot have that."There is silence. A chill on his back, despite the thick layers of feather and velvet and satin.Waiting.He sighs again. "Of course I loved you, Harry."
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle
Comments: 12
Kudos: 74





	Kiss me on the mouth and set me free

**Author's Note:**

> Hey you lovely unfortunates who may follow me for some strange reason, I've actually just been posting elsewhere for a while and unfortunately neglecting here. But I'm back. If you don't follow me, well, you probably make good life choices; can you tell me how to do that?
> 
> Written for the prompt: an Old Manor

"Do you like it?" Tom asks.

Around him the old interior of the manor house stretches, all dark red velvet and nearly black hardwood. Beneath him, old tiled wood is interrupted by luxurious carpets and fur rugs. Paintings line the walls, mostly forest scenes; creeks and wildlife run from frame to frame, filling the air with the sound of running water and birdsong. Staircases curve around the room up to the second floor, and from here, Tom has a clear view all the way up to the very top ceiling. A mural is painted, a moving skyscape, just like the one at Hogwarts.

It's perfect.

Harry will love it.

He looks behind him, out the open door, and to the empty space beyond it.

"Does it feel like a home?" He asks. His voice echoes, and in their paintings, animals and Faeries swivel to watch him.

There is no response.

_ I can be the subject of your dreams _

_ Your sickening desire…. _

"You don't like it, do you?"

Tom's voice is too loud in the big dining room. Above him, the chandelier looks like a dragon crouching over its hoard of crystals, a single stretched wing fastening it to the sloping ceiling above. Mirrored panes of glass around the room reflect the large black table, and an arrangement of sugar butterflies sits at the centre of the table.

Two places are set. Only one is occupied.

Tom sits alone.

"I thought you wanted to get away," he whispers, and leaves, his meal started but now unfinished.

Harry's plate remains perfectly untouched.

_ Who's got any time for growin' up? _

Tom finally finds his Harry in the garden.

Whoever decided to renovate the old manor house clearly did not bother to pay that same attention to its garden. Inside, the broken glass has been replaced, the dust cleared, the furniture replaced, the water fixed.

In the garden, it is overgrown. The statuettes are broken or smashed by time, the path overgrown, the fountains no longer run, and what once grew in the beds has been replaced by whatever nature saw fit. At the centre, a pond grows from a creek, or at least it should have. The creek is only a trickle of water, and the pond is mud. But mossy stones still lead to a tiny island, and on it, he can see grey.

"Harry," he says softly, leaning over the other. "I've been looking for you."

"Don't." Comes the tiny, tired reply, as Harry begins to fade once more. "Forget me. Move on."

"Never."

Tom's hand feels cold as it goes through Harry's back.

_ You can coax the cold right out of me _

_ Drape me in your warmth…. _

"Why did you bring me here?" Harry's voice floats through the halls like a melody, and seeps into the walls like a curse. "I never asked for this."

"Why did you come, if you didn't want it?" Tom asks, facedown in a bed too large for him, surrounded by the sort of luxury he dreamed of in his youth. He breathes in silk and wildflowers, suffocates on goose feathers.

"....did you truly love me so much?"

Harry's voice is right above him now, and Tom's breath catches, his every muscle seizes. He wants to touch….

He sighs into his pillow. "I put my life aside for you, Harry. My dreams of greatness are gone. All I want now is you, and I cannot have that."

There is silence. A chill on his back, despite the thick layers of feather and velvet and satin.

Waiting.

He sighs again. "Of course I loved you, Harry."

_ Rapture in the dark puts me at ease _

Harry disappears for a while again, and Tom redoes the tacky kitchen, and the second floor bathrooms, and the study. He waits on the garden.

When Harry comes again, it's been nearly a month, and Tom is reorganising the library. The library coming with it had been a huge draw to this particular place, and Tom has not been disappointed. He could spend weeks in the library.

"I still think you should move on."

Tom's shoulders slump, and he rests his forehead on the spine of a book.

"....and I'm sorry you have to. I'm sorry you can't — we can't —"

"It's not your fault you died, Harry," Tom says, knowing what he's trying to say far too well. He turns around.

Harry looks so much smaller than he used to. Like all of his substance was sucked out along with all the colour. And he looks younger. Like he's just a boy again. Like he's not seen as much. If he wasn't grey and the books weren't so different, Tom could have thought they were in Hogwarts again. Harry's long hair floats around him like a halo, and his glasses slip down his nose. Tom's fingers itch to fix them.

"It's just my fault I let you," he says, and Harry shrinks even more.

"You didn't cast the spell." Harry whispers, blinking like he's trying not to cry. His eyes are so strange now that they're not green….

"I wasn't there to stop it."

_ Let's go for a walk down Easy Street _

_ Where you can be reborn _

The first few seconds, the water only runs out. Then the pressure picks up, and it sprays into the air, sloping back and forth ever so slightly as the fountain reanimates. The wings of the stone fairy the fountain is built into twitch, and then she's laughing soundlessly, holding the spray above her head as she moves.

"That's the last one," Tom announces, putting his wand back into his pocket and stretching. He enjoys working with runes, but he has been recarving them into statues and fountains all morning. His back aches.

"It's perfect," Harry says softly.

Harry looks out of place in the garden. Everything else is now bright and green, and he's still grey and transparent. He looks otherworldly and beautiful, and he wobbles like a heat mirage.

He's lovely, and Tom feels empty, not achy.

"Do you like it, then?"

He's not just asking about the fountain.

"....of course I like it, Tom."

_ Kiss me on the mouth and set me free _

_ But please don't bite _

**Author's Note:**

> And then they lived bittersweetly ever after or something, I think. I dunno.
> 
> Should I finish the one where Harry is a communist next or the one where there's a magical zombie apocalypse and Tom is just trying to keep the two people Tom actually likes alive? Can't decide.
> 
> Thank you for reading, feel free to comment as it gives me the closest I get to a normal social interaction, (guys it's been so long since I talked to anything but cats--) and I hope you have a lovely day! Byeeeeee!


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